Clary Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
by glassfacet
Summary: Jocelyn makes a different choice for her daughter, and Clary grows up knowing who – and what – she is. The Seelie Queen, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, the Dumort Master and the Downtown Alpha make an agreement: they will raise Clary among the four groups so that she learns what it means to be a Downworlder. Jocelyn's reappearance in Idris sparks a race for Clary and the Mortal Cup.
1. I Go and catch a falling star

Go and catch a falling star

Isabelle was pissing Jace off to no end. It didn't really matter that he hadn't had a better idea, or that they'd both caved and not dragged Alec to Pandemonium again. It had been her idea to wander around SoHo, and now she was window shopping. Which left Jace and Alec to make sure that they weren't about to be attacked. It had, thus far, been a boring night.

Alec leaned against a streetlight, clearly watching Jace out of the corner of one eye. Jace turned a pointed glance down the street to see if anything was there. The street was empty, apart from the three of them. It was almost disappointing. This ranked well up there as one of Isabelle's worst ideas ever. It almost topped the fairy plum dare. Almost.

"You could just say something," muttered Alec. "Izzy will probably agree that doing our job is more exciting than scoping out sales."

"So why don't you?" asked Jace, knowing the answer.

"When has Izzy ever listened to me?" asked Alec rhetorically. "Besides, it's a nice night. I don't mind doing nothing, but watching you get antsy is grating on my nerves. So you talk to Izzy, and I'll figure out where the nearest subway entrance is so we can go somewhere else."

Jace grinned. "I like that. See, this is why we're friends." He wandered over to Izzy while Alec slipped off into the night to find the subway and decide where to go. Isabelle was staring critically into the glass, more looking at herself and her brothers than the window display.

"Where did you send Alec to?" asked Isabelle, still studying Jace's reflection in the glass.

"He went to look for the subway," said Jace. "We're bored. You can shop later, when we're not out hunting."

"I know that," said Isabelle irritably, giving actual Jace a glare. "Hasn't it seemed odd to you, lately? We go out hunting, and there are no demons. Anywhere. And if we do find one, it's so weak that it only takes one of us to kill it."

"I hadn't really noticed," said Jace sarcastically. "It is weird, but there's no reason why there shouldn't be a lack of demonic activity. Alec likes the break."

"Yes, but that's just - " Isabelle began. A shout came from a few blocks away. Jace and Isabelle exchanges looks "Alec," they said at the same time. They sprinted towards the sound of the shout, Isabelle quietly praying that her brother was okay.

They arrived in time to see Alec go flying into the side of a dumpster and crumple to the ground. The demon, with its scythe-like forelegs, lashing barbed tail and tentaclesque whiskers, advanced on Alec, drooling acid and unhinging its reptilian jaw only to halt itself as an electrum whip cracked across its massive back. The demon turned away from Alec in an attempt to find Isabelle, only to be hit squarely in the eye with a kidjal.

"Good shot," called Isabelle, slashing at the demons forelegs in an attempt to trip it up.

"Tell me that when it's dead," said Jace, leaping up onto the demon's back while Isabelle distracted it. He attempted to stab between the demon's head spikes, but the demon tossed its head in response to something Isabelle had done, flinging Jace into a lamp post.

A silvery disk flashed through the night and sliced through two of the demon's tentacles. The chakram was followed by two dark blurs that latched themselves onto the demon. One blur resolved as a young man; based on his long fangs, Jace could only assume he was a vampire. His companion, to Jace's surprise, was a werewolf, who was doing its best to hamstring the creature. Isabelle, though slightly startled, flicked her whip so it coiled tightly around the demon's tail. With a jerk, she ripped the tail off. While the creature was distracted by that pain, the vampire dug his hands into the flesh where he had bitten it, ripped the skin open wider and poured a vial of clear fluid into the wound before jumping lightly off to land on the side of a building. Jace dashed forward through the thrashing demon's tentacles and slashed the demon's throat open, spinning away to prevent himself from being drenched with demonic ichor. The demon shuddered, collapsed, and disintegrated into wisps of smoke.

"Good shot," said the vampire. "Nice hamstring manoeuvre, Maia."

The werewolf trotted towards them, morphing back into a human as it went. The young woman sighed. "Shame it didn't work."

"Don't beat yourself up," said the vampire, "besides, the thing's dead. No one died. And there's still hours 'til dawn."

"I can't stay out much longer," said the werewolf. "Gotta make curfew, or Master gets mad. He's good, though, keeping an eye on all of us."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" demanded Isabelle.

"Oh sorry," said the vampire, "I should have asked if you were injured. Are you?"

"We didn't need your help, bloodsucker," snapped Jace. "We were handling it just fine."

"Oh yeah, real fine," drawled the werewolf. "If getting yourselves half killed counts as fine. Besides, we're allowed to hunt too, as per the Accords."

"Listen, bitch," snarled Jace, "we don't need your help. Go back to your kennel."

"Why don't you tell that to your friend?" asked a third voice from the alley. All four turned to spot a petite redhead with Alec slung over her shoulder walking towards them. "Between his concussion and the poison in his bloodstream, yeah, you needed our help."

"What did you do to him?" demanded Isabelle, rushing forward to collect her brother.

"I gave him a potion," said the girl carelessly, "that would neutralize the poison. Let him rest for a few days and he'll be fine."

"You're pretty handy, Downworlder," said Isabelle. "Thanks."

The redhead's smile didn't reach her green eyes. "My pleasure. I've always wondered what Nephilim were like. So thank _you_ for fulfilling my curiosity. Make sure your friend follows the directions on the bottle exactly."

"He's my brother," said Isabelle. "We'll take care of him, don't worry."

"I wasn't going to," said the girl, turning away from Isabelle and Alec. "Come on, let's go eat. I'm hungry."

The three of them headed up the street, the werewolf flipping them off as they left. The three turned down an alleyway; a few moments later, a burst of blue light lit up the street. Jace and Isabelle lifted Alec to his feet, steadying him as he returned to consciousness. His blue eyes were a little bit hazy, but he seemed lucid enough to get home.

"I guess I'll have to come back later to shop," sighed Isabelle. She pulled her wallet out of her purse to check for cab fare and cursed.

"What's wrong?" asked Jace.

"That damn warlock stole all my cash," said Isabelle angrily. "Alec? What have you got on you?"

Alec checked his own wallet. "She cleaned me out too."

"I guess we're walking home then," said Jace. Isabelle punched him and flounced off, leaving Jace to support Alec by himself.


	2. I Get with child a mandrake root

Get with child a mandrake root

"Welcome back, Clarissa," said Magnus, not breaking the glaring contest between him and Chairman Meow. "What bits of havoc have you wreaked on New York this time?"

"You have so much faith in me," said Clary, dropping her bag by the door. "Simon, Maia and I decided to do some parkour in SoHo, and we ran into a bunch of Shadowhunters who had decided to bite off more than they could chew."

"And you thoughtfully saved their lives, didn't you," said Magnus, finally turning to look at his charge. "It's good to see that the skills you've been learning from Luke aren't going to waste."

"I even borrowed some money from them," said Clary, holding up a plastic bag. "I picked up takeout from Taki's on my way home."

"Bribery will get you everywhere," said Magnus, giving up his argument with the Chairman and following Clary to what passed for their kitchen. "And you got the good stuff too. Tell me more about these Shadowhunters you ran into."

"Two of them were clearly siblings," said Clary, "a brother and sister with these awesome blue eyes. And the third one – another boy – was all golden. Gold hair, gold eyes, gold skin. I feel like I know him, but I've never seen him before."

"It's probably déjà vu," said Magnus. "Disorienting, but not life threatening."

"They were pretty rude to us," said Clary, checking over her bacon and tomato sandwich. "They kept calling us 'Downworlder' and used some pretty nasty terms for vampires and werewolves." Clary smirked. "They couldn't seem to figure out what I was, so they decided I was a Fae. And even there, they were pretty derogatory."

"It's an unfortunate, if common, stance among Nephilim," said Magnus. "We Downworlders have learned to expect it from them over the centuries."

"I'm a Nephilim," argued Clary, "and I don't think like that."

"You're a Nephilim by birth, and a Downworlder by adoption," said Magnus, retrieving a box of generously cheesy poutine. "This proves that prejudice is a learned behaviour, and not genetic. And I, for one, am profoundly grateful for that."

"Because Valentine's a bigger jackass than most Nephilim?" asked Clary. "I'm glad that I never met him. I mean, it'd be nice to have my own take on my biological father. But I'm glad he didn't get the chance to make me nasty."

"That is a factor," admitted Magnus. "But imagine all of the people in your life that you would never have met, let alone gotten to be friends with, if you carried prejudice in your DNA. You are privileged to have so many who love you, and you love them in return. Of the Angel's Children, you're the first to live among and understand all types of Downworlders."

"I know," said Clary fondly. "To love unconditionally is divine, to err in devotion is only too human. Thankfully, you're nice. I should warn you though, Chrysaor and Co. will probably come by later this week."

"And why might they do that?" asked Magnus

"It's not like I borrowed the money for nothing," said Clary. "I partially healed one of them. The blue eyed boy. They'll be around if they follow the instructions I left on him. And they're probably pissed enough to come for a confrontation."

"Claradele, why would you do that?" asked Magnus exasperatedly. "The Accords are coming up. We don't need more tension than there already is."

"Because I'm keeping our bet in mind," said Clary, pointing to the piece of paper pinned to the ceiling over their heads. "And because there's something about those particular three. Something special. It's important."

"I see," mused Magnus. "Or rather, I don't, but I assume that I will once they show up. Don't forget, you're working the morning shift at the gallery."

"How could I forget?" asked Clary. "I only begged for the job for two weeks straight until you gave in and let me have it."

"Thank your mother for suggesting that I buy that dilapidated old thing," said Magnus. "Though I must admit, it does make for a steady source of income. Useful for when we actually have to buy things."

"Have you heard from Mom lately?" asked Clary. "Has anyone?"

"Radio silence, I'm afraid," said Magnus. "In this case, no news is probably good news. She likely isn't hurt or captured, or we would know. Think positive, Claradele. You'll likely see Jocelyn soon."

Clary worried her lower lip. "I hope she's okay."

"Luke would have told us if he thought she was going to do something reckless," Magnus pointed out. "Of everyone, he knows her best. Last anyone heard, Jocelyn was in Munich. It's very likely that whatever her plan is, it involves staying far away from Shadowhunters."

"You think she's headed to Idris. Don't you."

"Yes. Unfortunately. Bedtime. I'm exhausted."


	3. I Tell me where the past years are

Tell me where the past years are

Jocelyn pulled her coat tighter around herself. Sleeping in trees was uncomfortable, but significantly safer than the alternative. No one would look up to see if there was someone even in the tree – well, most wouldn't – and it seemed like she had thrown off her pursuers. Still, being back in Idris did have its risks. It felt good to be home.

She cracked open the locket that hung on a long chain around her neck. Her daughter's face stared back at her, red hair so like her own braided over one shoulder and green eyes also like her own holding a touch of humour and wisdom, as well as the suggestion of cleverness. That, and Clary's jaw and cheekbones, were not hers. The man who had granted them to her daughter had never met Clary, and if Jocelyn had her way, never would.

If Valentine found her little angel, everything Jocelyn had worked for would be for nothing. If the demon-boy Valentine had called their son found her…

The thought didn't bear completing. Jocelyn pushed it aside, as she had many times before, and contemplated the Glass City. It stood before her, its walls girdling it and keeping city growth in check while the glass towers soared into the sky much like the lacy filigree of a crown. Alicante seemed to stare down at her, much as it had years ago, when she had first come to the city for school. Then, it had seemingly approved of her and her talents. Now, it seemed to find her wanting.

Jocelyn closed the locket and glared back at the crownlike city. She had seen the world and lived its wonders, and no city could contemplate the beauty of the world's sorrows any more than the wretchedness of the joys. Cities were made to bear and endure eternity. Jocelyn knew that she was made to endure her own lifetime, and no more, and to bear her burdens with whatever gifts she was given and whatever skills she happened to pick up along the way.

She jumped out of the tree and landed in near silence, with only a few dead leaves giving her away. The ruins of her childhood home stood in front of her. Cautiously, Jocelyn made her way around the front of the house – she refused to go in that way, even if the bones had been removed, as her mind would supply the image. The back of the house, where the kitchen had been, was more intact as it had been warded against fire. Jocelyn ducked through and made her way to the opening that led to the cellars.

Hopefully, nothing down here had burned too badly, if at all.

The stone stairs were exactly where they should have been. Jocelyn crept down the stairs, pulling her witch light out of her coat's inner pocket so she could see. The cellar was full of ashes, much like the rest of the house had been. In the spaces where Valentine had kept various prisoners were fragments of bone and in one case, the outline of a body.

"God and all His angels forgive me," said Jocelyn softly, looking at the remains. "I shouldn't have waited so long to act. Let their souls rest in peace; they suffered enough on Earth." She placed a handkerchief over an intact skull and resumed her search.

Beyond the dead, there was very little else left behind. The desk had burned, as had the bookshelf that had stood behind it. Jocelyn cursed softly. She pressed her hands against the walls, looking for hidden compartments. She found nothing.

Beyond the office space and cells was a small flat area. The last time Jocelyn had been here, she hadn't even looked in the space. Now the covered humanoid shape was gone. Where it had been was the remains of an array. Jocelyn frowned. It didn't seem to be a summoning array. Upon closer inspection, she found Marks for containment and holding.

"Another prisoner," Jocelyn murmured. Who had been in her husband's life of their own volition? And how many of them knew what he was under the pleasant smile? She certainly hadn't known him, and she had married Valentine.

After another hour of careful searching, Jocelyn gave up. It was obvious that Valentine had either destroyed his records or had moved them before setting fire to the house. Knowing what she did of Valentine, Jocelyn guessed that it was the latter. But where would he have moved to?

She thought over the day of the Rising. The bones she had found in the ashes of her childhood home had to be people she knew. Of course, two of the skeletons had been her parents. Seeing their remains like that had broken her heart. But the other two, the man and the child… So many members of the Circle would have come when Valentine called, but which had he summoned to him? Not the Lightwoods; Luke had told her that they ran the New York Institute, and that Alec was very much alive. Celine and Stephen were dead by then; Hodge had no children, and was reportedly also in New York.

The Waylands. Michael and his son. They'd been the last of their line. Only the Lightwoods would have noticed they were missing. Michael would have been assumed killed in the Rising. Only he hadn't been.

Jocelyn felt bile rise in her throat. Had she eaten anything that day, it would have come up. Instead, she knelt on the floor, her stomach heaving. Her husband had murdered a child and a man who had called him friend, and had likely stolen their house. A house where she had hidden a very important book over sixteen years before.

Pushing herself up, she headed to the stairs. Halfway up, she hid her witch light; she knew this area well enough. She could walk to the Wayland manor in the dark and find a place to hide when the sun came up. She could wait until nightfall to break into Valentine's new workshop.

The best laid plans of mice and men often go wrong.

A group of Shadowhunters in full gear were waiting for her at the top of the stairs, witch lights and weapons out. Silently, Jocelyn cursed herself for being careless. She didn't dare draw a weapon; this was not the time to die. One of the other Shadowhunters stepped forward and pushed back the hood that covered her face.

"Good morning, Inquisitor Herondale," said Jocelyn, resigned.

"I'm not in the mood for your humour, Jocelyn Morgenstern," snapped Imogen Herondale. "You will come with us, quietly."

"Of course," said Jocelyn. "I want to be tried by the Sword, if you please."

"I was hoping you'd say that," said the Inquisitor with a tight-lipped smirk. "I will grant your request. You'll wish you hadn't asked when we're done."

Jocelyn shrugged and submitted to a search that relieved her of all her weaponry. Most of what she knew, they knew. Her precious things were safely hidden and well protected. Jocelyn had nothing to lose, really.


	4. I Or who cleft the devil's foot

"Good news," said Jace as he entered the kitchen. "Maryse and Robert bought the story and won't be rushing home to check on us."

"That's one major bullet dodged," said Isabelle as she looked over various takeout menus. "Mom would freak if she found out that Alec almost died."

"She'll freak out anyway," Alec pointed out. "Mom runs the Institute. Someone will tell her about what really happened, and then we'll all be in even bigger trouble."

"And then we'll blame the whole thing on Jace," said Isabelle. "Does Greek food for dinner sound good to everyone?"

"Izzy, it's too early to be thinking about dinner," said Jace. "So, Alec, does the very blank label say anything new? Like, actual visible words?"

"It does, actually," said Alec. "Two addresses, both in Brooklyn. We should go check them out."

"Why?" asked Isabelle. "Because the bottle says to?"

"We have nothing better to do," said Alec. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that I'm supposed to see someone at one of these addresses for a follow up to that potion."

"So we'll go," said Jace. "Cab or subway?"

"Subway," said Alec. "It'll be more normal."

"We're going to be gawked at," said Isabelle idly. "It always happens."

"I'm sure that the extra attention won't kill you, Izzy," said Jace. "So, let's see where this warlock lives."

The first address took them to a third floor apartment. Alec rang the bell, while Isabelle examined her nails and Jace watched the neighbourhood. After nearly twenty minutes of standing on the landing and ringing the bell six more times, Alec gave up and they headed back down to the street.

"So, where's this other place?" asked Jace.

"It's called Mandrigoria," said Alec with a slight frown.

"That's an art gallery," said Isabelle. "I've heard of it. Apparently it shows a real variety of paintings."

"So what's a little girl warlock doing in an art gallery?" asked Jace.

"We'll have to ask when we get there," said Alec. "It's only a few blocks over."

On the outside, Mandrigoria looked like most of the street it sat on. Inside, it was high-ceilinged and had a maze of moveable walls that were covered in paintings. There were a few people visible, among them a teenager covered in glitter who was seated behind the help desk. When Alec hesitated, Jace and Isabelle very nearly dragged him over to where the glittery teen was sitting.

The guy had cat eyes.

"I see what she meant," mused the glitter-covered warlock. "Chrysaor and Co., I presume? Come on, we'll talk upstairs." He stood and stretched much like a cat and walked over to a spiral staircase hidden in a corner. The three Shadowhunters followed him up the stairs and into a riot of colour.

"So," said the warlock as he folded himself into an emerald green armchair, "what can I do for you?"

"Chrysaor and Co.?" said Isabelle. "Who came up with that?"

"Does it matter?" replied the warlock. "I really can't think of a more appropriate nickname for the three of you. Chrysaor, son of Poseidon and Medusa, twin of Pegasus and dubbed "the Golden Sword" for his weapons expertise and his use of a golden sword. Learn your Greek myths, children."

"We'll get right on that," snarked Jace.

"Who are you?" Alec blurted. the warlock cocked an eyebrow.

"Magnus Bane," said the warlock, "High Warlock of Brooklyn and owner of this art gallery. Who's asking?"

"Alec Lightwood," said Alec. "This is my sister Isabelle. He's Jace Wayland."

"You look nothing like Michael Wayland," said Magnus to Jace, "nor do you look like any Wayland I've ever seen. But yes, I can see that you'd be Maryse's children. I was the one who held her for trial after the Uprising."

"Seriously," said Isabelle, "Mom's never mentioned you."

"I doubt that she wants to discuss that period of her life at all," said Magnus, amused. "Now really, why are you here?"

"The other night, someone gave me this," said Alec, handing Magnus the empty bottle. "I don't remember much, but I do remember being told to follow the directions on the label. I was told that I'd need a follow up."

"You do," said Magnus, looking the bottle over. "Tsk. This was one of my better concoctions, and she only charged you two hundred? But yes, side effects might set in. I can't give you more of this - unfortunately, it's addictive as morphine - but I can give you a tonic that will finish clearing you up."

"How much?" asked Alec.

"Seventy-five," said Magnus. "I'll bill it to the Institute. It's easier to make and significantly easier on your system. But let's look you over to see how you're doing first." Magnus placed a hand that glowed blue on Alec's chest. The blue glow spread all over Alec, as it retreated, Magnus frowned. A piece of paper fell from the ceiling of the office onto a glass end table.

"I'm not sure that page was supposed to fall," said Jace.

"Shut up," said Isabelle. "Everything falls down. That's the law of gravity, Jace."

"You have a strained ligament in addition to the remnants of being poisoned," Magnus informed him as he glided over to the end table. He picked up the paper and looked it over. "Mm. Should have known. Ah well. Anyway, I can fix it for you, if you'd like. Free of charge."

"Free of charge," repeated Jace.

"Since you're such good customers," said Magnus, "and it's an easy little thing. Plus, I'm in a reasonably good mood."

"Thanks," said Alec, cutting across his best friend and sister. "Can we look around the gallery afterwards?"

"Why not?" shrugged Magnus. "But if you wreck it, you buy it. And if you harass my customers or my staff, I'm kicking you out." A blue spark jumped from Magnus to Alec. "All better. It was a pleasure meeting you, Alexander."

The three Nephilim stared. Finally Jace said, "He never said his name was Alexander."

"I suppose he didn't," agreed Magnus. "Perhaps you should simply accept that I know things. The gallery is downstairs, as is the exit. Feel free to show yourselves out."

They traipsed back down to the gallery, Magnus ushering them along with the paper clutched in his hand. Once back on the ground level, they found a red haired girl seated behind the desk. Jace and Isabelle stopped dead when they spotted her.

"Magnus, good news," said the girl cheerfully. "Someone bought the monster!"

"Did they really?" said Magnus. "Why? It's hideous. And massive."

She shrugged. "The buyer said he wanted something big and loud. It was love at first sight. I've even got the deposit and moving all worked out."

"Claradele, you are brilliant sometimes," said Magnus. "What would I do without you?"

"Throw crazy parties and not own an art gallery," said Claradele promptly. "Is there a reason your guests are staring at me?"

"They're more your guests than mine," said Magnus. "The dark ones are Isabelle and Alec. Chrysaor's name is actually Jace." The girl paled.

"Claradele, right?" said Jace. "Thanks for saving Alec."

"It's Clary," she informed him. "Magnus just likes being annoying. No problem."

"Is Magnus your teacher, then?" asked Isabelle.

"Not really," shrugged Clary. "I mean, I can speak Indonesian and I know other crazy stuff. But there's no real point in him teaching me magic, since I'm not a warlock." As Jace opened his mouth to ask, she clarified, "I'm only a Downworlder by adoption."

"There aren't any mundanes that can see the Shadow world," protested Isabelle. Her elegant eyebrows slid into a frown and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"She's Nephilim," said Magnus, bored. "Both of her parents are Nephilim. Her family on both sides goes back to the founding of your species."

"Problem, officers?" said Clary. "Cope. Feel free to check out the artwork." Magnus took that as permission to drag Alec around the gallery, dropping the paper on the desk as he passed it. Isabelle snorted and followed her clearly nervous brother. Jace watched his foster siblings as he leaned against the desk.

"So, what happened to your parents?" asked Jace.

"One went psychotic," said Clary flatly. "The other gave me up to protect me. What happened to yours?"

"They died," said Jace shortly. "The Lightwoods are my family now. So your parent's cool with you hanging out with Downworlders, then?"

"Of course," said Clary. "But if you're so concerned, come hang out with us. Friday, ten o'clock at Pandemonium."

"Sounds good," said Jace. "See you there. Anything worth looking at here?"

"Lots," said Clary, "depending on what you like. If you're in the mood for thinking, abstracts are by the door. Sculpture is in that far corner. There's impressionist and postmodern stuff in the middle. And if you're homesick, look for box thirty-seven."

Jace nodded and lifted a hand in farewell. He drifted through impressionist paintings and unusual sculptures until he reached a cube with the number 37 tagged on it. The paintings inside were realistic, beautiful images caught in oil paints. He recognized the landscapes in many of them. The painting of Lake Lys from a vantage point caught his eye. For a long while, he stared at home.

"Jace, what are you - oh my God," said Isabelle, stepping into the cube. "It's Idris."

"Yeah," said Jace, "It is."

"Who's the painter?" asked Alec, joining them.

"Jocelyn Frey," said Jace, gesturing to the signature. "I have no idea who that is. But she's talented."

"We should head back," said Isabelle. "I think we need to get more training time in, and we still have to figure out dinner."

"I vote for Greek food," said Jace. "I'm craving stuffed fig leaves."

"Mmhmm," said Isabelle, reapplying her lip gloss. "Sure you are."


	5. I Teach me to hear mermaids singing

Teach me to hear mermaids singing

Magnus handed Clary the paper that had fallen from his office ceiling. Clary took it and looked it over. A wide grin spread across her face. "I knew it," she said triumphantly. "I knew that you'd find the love of your life."

"Yes, yes, you told me so," said Magnus, waving off her comment. "What I want to know is if I'm the love of his life. Because I might not be, and that would be tragic."

"I can offer to do one of these readings," said Clary. "I mean, the name only shows up once you've met the person. So we'll see."

"I suppose so," said Magnus. "What's this about Friday at Pandemonium?"

"A meet up with friends," shrugged Clary. "Will you mind terribly if we raid your closet before we go?"

"Not at all," said Magnus. "It's a bit soon to call those three your friends, Claradele. I can see you're interested. I've only lived with you for over a decade now."

"It's public," said Clary, "and Simon and Maia will be there. It's not a date. Just seeing how things roll. Getting to know my own kind."

"Nephilim are notoriously arrogant," said Magnus. "Of course, you live with me, so you should be fine. May I join you once my business for the day is done?"

"Sure," said Clary. "Let me know if my mom comes up. Please?"

"I wouldn't keep that from you," said Magnus. "I'll tell you the bits you need to know. Keep an eye on Alec, won't you?"

"What are pseudo siblings for, if not to watch your back?" said Clary. Magnus laughed and pushed her in the direction of a middle aged woman who was looking intently at some abstract sculptures.

Simon and Maia arrived after sunset on Friday. The girls had taken one look at Simon's planned outfit and promptly raided Magnus' closet. They debated different pieces from Magnus' extensive wardrobe while Simon watched with a small measure of terror.

"I don't see what the big deal is," complained Simon. "Can't I just wear this?"

"It's a complete waste for you to be immortal and gorgeous," said Clary, "and still go to clubs in pill-covered sweaters and jeans that have never fit you right."

"You don't try to dress Maia," said Simon.

"Maia has her own style," said Clary patiently. "And she isn't immortal. Now put on the clothes that we've picked for you." In the end, the girls hadn't deviated too much from Simon's original style. A moss green button down with jeans that actually did fit him and his running shoes suited him. Maia's sky blue tee and jeans passed inspection, as did Clary's navy blue halter dress. Her Marks were on display, but their presence would get them into Pandemonium without having to pay cover and double as a warning for any demons in the club.

"We should bounce," said Maia. "I need food before we go."

"Right," said Clary. "Taki's then Pandemonium. I'm guessing that you need to eat too, Simon."

"Good guess," said Simon. "I need breakfast."

"Or whatever passes for it," said Clary. "I should probably have mentioned, we're meeting some people at the club. Remember those Nephilim we saved?"

"Yeah," said Maia. "So why are we meeting them?"

"Two reasons," said Clary. "Magnus has an eye on one of them. And they were pretty taken with my mom's paintings of Idris. The blond guy, Jace, seemed to know some of the landscapes pretty well."

"You think that he might know your brother?" asked Simon. "Like, the murderous raving lunatic who's trying to kill your mom?"

"It's possible," said Clary. "I mean, I've never met the guy. I have no idea what he's like. But if I'm right, Jace might know a Jonathan Christopher. Which is my brother's name."

"What happens if he is friends with a psychopath?" asked Simon.

"Then I'm probably screwed," said Clary. "If my brother knows, Valentine knows. If Valentine knows, then New York isn't safe for anyone."

"Chill, Clary," said Maia. "We'll take care of you. Would you draw the Portal now?" Clary sighed and sketched a glowing blue circle onto the wall. Carefully, she made sure that there was a time delay on it so that it would close and the Marks would erase themselves. As soon as it was done, Maia walked through it. Simon followed her. With a last glance around the room to make sure she had everything, Clary stepped through the portal in Magnus' bedroom and onto the street outside of Taki's.

"Hey Kaelie!" called Simon as they made their way over to their favourite table. "How's it going?"

"Pretty well, thanks," said Kaelie, sweeping over with a menu. "What can I getcha?"

"Uh, a cow-pig blend, please," said Simon. "A full pint. I'm hungry."

"American burger with extra cheese and a milkshake," said Maia. "And fries. Lots of fries."

"Okay," said Kaelie, jotting down their orders. "What about you, hon?" "Chicken parmesan and orange juice," said Clary. "With a side of info about one Jace Wayland."

Kaelie pursed her lips. "Lemme put your order in." They waited as Kaelie attached the sheet with their order on it to the lineup. She sat down next to Simon and cocked her head to one side.

"What do you want to know about Jace?" she asked.

"You know him personally?" asked Simon.

"We used to date," said Kaelie dreamily. "He's pretty, you know? Irresistible as a pile of gold or apple pie. Mmm."

"Is there any reason he's such a jerk?" asked Maia.

"Oh yeah," said Kaelie. "He saw his father die. He's a talented Shadowhunter. As I said, he's pretty. He's been pretty spoiled, I guess. Loves anything with tomatoes in it."

"Does he ever talk about Idris, that you know of?" asked Clary.

"Not much," said Kaelie. "I asked him about it once, and he said it was the most beautiful place on Earth. But as far as I know, he doesn't talk about his dad or anything."

"He never gets letters from there, or anything?" asked Clary.

"Nope," said Kaelie. "Apparently, the only person he knew in Idris was his father. Dead people don't send post, even in the shadow world."

"I see," said Clary, turning a thought over in her mind. "Thanks Kaelie."

"Hey, no problem," shrugged Kaelie. "Why so interested, Starlet?"

"Just curious," said Clary. "I haven't seen him around before."

"He's pretty curious about you too," said Kaelie. "He came by this morning and asked about you. Pretty intensely, too."

"Good to know," said Simon. Kaelie offered him a sweet smile before going up to the counter to retrieve their orders. "What's eating you, Clary?"

"The only person he knew was his father," said Clary, accepting her chicken from Kaelie with an appreciative smile. "Why does that seem so suspicious? I think something's not quite right."

"I'll be happy to distract that girl," offered Simon, sipping his pint of blood, "if you wanted to do a little digging in Golden Boy's story."

"I'll take her brother," said Maia. "They're both gorgeous."

"If Magnus doesn't get to him first," said Clary. "He said he might join us."

"Magnus thinks Pandemonium is tacky," scoffed Maia.

"Not even tacky decor is going to keep Magnus away from Alec," said Clary. "Or really anything he might want in life." Maia snorted and applied herself to her burger and fries.

"We should go," said Simon as the girls polished off the last of their food. "We're going to be late."

"Not likely," said Clary as she left enough money to cover their meal and a healthy tip just under the edge of her plate. "Come on, we'll Portal over. If we're really lucky, we'll be able to clean up a bit before our guests come." It took Clary less than a minute to set up the temporary Portal in the alleyway behind Taki's. They came out a few blocks down from the club and walked in, getting a nod of acknowledgement from the Ifrit at the door. Clary's Marks shimmered over her skin, as did Maia's bite scar. The girls settled themselves in an alcove, noting Simon's absence. He was a bit dishevelled when he rejoined them.

"Sorry about that," said Simon with a fang-baring grin. "A few demons thought they'd sneak into the club tonight. I thought that we'd rather not have uninvited guests to tonight's party."

"You're so thoughtful, Simon," said Clary, kissing his cheek. Maia rolled her eyes.


End file.
